Crab Rave

Hard legs puncture the loose sand. They're on the move. Tiny bead eyes swiveling in their elongated sockets like an expensive security camera. Through the dunes, down the shore, past the oysters, they come in a red crawling tongue. The strange appendage nothing but a sum of its parts. An army of eager crustaceans ready to enter the depths. Eight sectioned legs remark the path of the previous traveler. Ovular bodies braced on their pedestals, a slow spider, a hardened machine moving its solid but intricate parts. Their migration continues in a pulse. A primitive rhythm dancing to the energy of moral driven troops. Thousands of small bodies scuttle through the the dusty heat to the wet sacred grounds of the deep. Claws click in unified anticipation. Soon the nuanced movements become a complex symphony ending by the lapping shoreline between the rocks. The are a unit of one and one in thousands. Dancing to a tune only heard by themselves.